Just some babbling about time

First of all, I have to tell you how surprised I am that with all the factories and schools I've visited, I don't have more pictures of clocks. I think these are the only two. I can't remember if that's because people always take the clocks when they leave? Or if it's because I have an aversion to measuring time. It seems to be an important distinction, and I promise on my next trip I'll pay more attention. Which probably won't be until March, because it's full on winter headrush here, what with the snow and the ice and the me falling down every time I go outside because I bought all these cute boots but unfortunately none of them have any tread. Oops.

I'm also, speaking of time, which we will be in a second (hahaha shutup), disappointed that the January Thaw has yet to appear in Cleveland. Seriously, every year, there is one week where the snow lifts and we get 50-60 degree sunny days, and it is the memory of this week which has been keeping me going for the last two, so I need it to show the fuck up already. Maybe it will be next week? In time for the Amish country drive? Or maybe climate change has stolen my week forever? I am one of those people who have very specific expectations of their seasonal experiences. Like, in my mind, the week of Easter is always perfect, no snow, no rain, lots of daffodils. While I know reasonably this cannot be true, I still hold this to be true. Just like it's also true that my birthday always has perfect weather.

So time has been fucking with me lately. Seasons and years and weeks and minutes. What do you want Time? I have never worn a watch, and maybe this is why I'm always at odds with you, Time. I'm 31. I work 10 hour days. I take 40 minute showers. I cannot fall asleep before 1am. I try hard to be on time, but am always reliably 30 minutes late, except to work. I hate to plan a bunch of stuff for one day, because even if its all play, I feel rushed. I like when things are open ended, and have no limit or direction. I hate the structure of a schedule. When you give me a schedule, I will try to mess it up almost immediately, in order to relieve the pressure.

I joined a gym lately, and yes I know it's the whole New Years thing, but the truth is that there are those of us who want to join in the fall, and then tell ourselves it's better to wait until after the holiday drinking fest to really be serious about it, and also you always get deals in January. So I just started, and the 30 minutes cardio feels like an eternity. After fifteen minutes, I'm just so bored I could cry. But I tell myself, every time, that if I was fucking, this would be nothing, that 30 minutes is not even past foreplay, and so therefore I have no excuse, that of course I can do this, that it's a minuscule amount of time really. If it was something I really liked, I'd be able to do it forever.

So I have to devalue time in order to live with it. And I wonder now if that's how we all get by.